


A Helping Hand

by thefilthiestpiglet



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Competent Bucky Barnes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, HYDRA Trash Party, Happy Ending, Multi, Rape, Stun Baton, fuckpotato, yes this is yet another more different fuckpotato bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/thefilthiestpiglet
Summary: The small blessing, if Bucky were counting blessings, is that when they took his limbs, the wipes started being less effective — probably because the brain is the only thing left in him that the serum could heal.  He’s remembering faster with each mission.  The next time he has both his mind and a gun in his hand, he will take action.Or: what if hyper-competent fuckpotato Bucky?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 59





	1. Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey yes I am here with yet another fuckpotato fic + art. (Some day I should do a showcase of each of the different limb tech for each of the different fuckpotato incarnations...)
> 
> Anyways, 4 chapters with a pic each chapter, and the art for ch 2 and 3 are DEFINITELY nsfw so scroll carefully. Also: standard Hydra Trash Party warnings because the party is happening and not just in the past. And Rumlow doing standard Rumlow things like being a homophobic hyprocrite.
> 
> Oh, there's also a "preview" of the 4 chapters in the [Chapter 1 comments](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/389795178) if you want to read the setup and the aftermath but skip the actual trash party.

The small blessing, if Bucky were counting blessings, is that when they took his limbs, the wipes started being less effective — probably because the brain is the only thing left in him that the serum could heal. 

They still wiped him before every mission, so usually he doesn't remember his name until the mission is over and they’d removed his artificial limbs and started fucking him.

(They call him an “it”, but Bucky, when he remembers, knows he’s more than that. Not that it helps much when he’s being pumped full of semen, carried like a sack of flour, and then put away in a drawer.)

When he’s lying in the drawer, waiting for the next round of whatever HYDRA had in store, he would think about Steve. The memories would come back faster each time — Steve with a split lip after getting in a fight. Steve’s cheeks, flushed from the cold, or maybe from their kissing. Steve, tall and shining, his body finally matching his spirit. The grainy press photo of Steve under the title CAPTAIN AMERICA’S NOBLE SACRIFICE SAVES NEW YORK.

That memory always hurt when it returns, but Bucky can console himself that at least Steve has been dead for 70 years, and won’t have to see him like this: only a person in his own head. To everyone else, he’s just a weapon, a fuck toy, a science experiment.

Sometimes he’d try to figure out a way to end it — kill his handlers and then kill himself. After all, removing himself was the best way to screw over HYDRA. No more deadly weapon. Decades and billions worth of investment sunk with a single bullet. But after that last escape attempt, they give him his limbs only for the duration of the mission, and he hasn’t yet had a mission where his mind was his own.

But — soon. He’s remembering faster with each mission. The next time he has both his mind and a gun in his hand, he will take action.

* * *

The Asset’s mission is to take down two level six targets in a moving vehicle. It leaps, punches and stabs. Every step, every impact drives pain into its stumps and nerve endings, but there is nothing in the Asset’s mind except the mission. The vehicle is destroyed, and the two targets have run in separate directions. The Asset evaluates which target to pursue first.

The redhead is hiding somewhere to the right, behind the black SUV. On the left, the blond is…

_Steve_

Bucky blinks. 

_Steve is alive?_

Bucky turns and runs.

* * *

Bucky may not know the city beyond what they put in the mission briefing, but he knows what to look for, and ducks into a busy subway station. From there he is able to acquire a wallet, a phone, some food, and a hoodie from various negligent commuters before slipping into the train tunnel and, finally, a safe service alcove, deep enough to confuse the tracking signals.

His heart is pounding, and not only from his escape attempt. _Steve is alive._ Bucky takes deep breaths and leans against the wall as various memories come trickling back. The well-worn ones come back first — the thoughts about Steve, the various mission and post-mission protocols, the day he woke up and found that Zola’d taken *all* of his limbs.

Bucky stuffs a hand down to his hip and feels around his leg attachment area as he searches his returning memories of lab techs tinkering with his limbs. His fingers find a latch and somehow know the right sequence of tugs and flips to disconnect his entire right leg. Good old Soviet technology, Bucky thinks with some satisfaction. The Americans added digital bells and whistles after the transfer, but the core attachment is as Soviet as they come, which is to say: designed to work when nothing else would. There is a sudden silence as the limb de-powers. Bucky waits for a train to pass ,then holds it against his ear. His enhanced senses lets him pick up a tiny, barely audible hum. That must be the tracker, then. 

Working one limb at a time, Bucky makes short work of the trackers, and by the end, he’s remembered how his handlers used to do a field charge for his limbs. The USB charging port was a recent add-on, for which he’d have to thank the gadget-happy head of the tech department who spent a whole year converting all office devices to a single charging standard. It didn’t make the guy’s dick taste any better, but it does mean that 30 minutes later Bucky is charging one limb at a time in a cubicle, eating pizza and collecting intel on his stolen phone.

There are news articles about finding Captain America frozen in the Arctic and tracking his life since then. There are photos of him attacking Steve’s car on the highway, mask on but only one of his metal arms showing. There are reports that Captain America has disappeared following the attack. Bucky nods. Good. If he was sent after Steve, that means that Steve is posing a threat to HYDRA. And now that Bucky is sitting here and the Winter Soldier can’t be a threat to whatever Steve was investigating. Excellent. But this means that Steve will do what he always does: take a deep breath and run straight at the problem.

Ugh.

Bucky looks at the left arm that is currently charging at the wall socket, red star glinting in the dim light of the phone. He’d hoped to maybe have a few more days to figure all this out, but Steve’s gonna need backup in a firefight. It’s been three hours since Bucky ran, which is plenty of time for Steve to get into trouble.

With a sigh, Bucky shoves the rest of the pizza into his mouth, destroys the stolen phone, and unplugs his left arm.

He’s going to need more guns.

* * *

Bucky huffs in frustration as he watches Steve make an impossible leap onto a rising helicarrier through his scope. Bucky’s been able to take out enough of HYDRA’s ground troops to help turn the tide in the Triskelion, but of course they had to launch the helicarriers and of course Steve had to jump onto it. Bucky’s parked a mile away from the fray — can’t let himself be seen, can’t let them get close enough to either trigger the limb disengagement or use his trigger phrases. But also: can’t jump after Steve and help him take out the STRIKE team on the helicarrier. 

Bucky turns his eyes to the top of the Triskelion, then eyes the top of his own building. If he gets sufficient height… Bucky smiles grimly. Cut off one head. 

* * *

The problem with HYDRA, Bucky thinks bitterly two days later, is that they aren’t kidding with the “two more will grow in its place” thing. There’s just enough frustration and discontent in society for HYDRA to tap into to become a self-perpetuating force. Sure, the Insight helicarriers went down, but HYDRA’s social media presence went up. Amidst all the horrified tweets about the attack and file drop, there is the small but vocal group that, while denouncing the helicarriers, is applauding HYDRA’s efforts to establish order and security.

And now, without Pierce, it is every HYDRA chapter for themselves. Where there once was one neo-nazi organization, there is now a hundred, maybe more. And half of them have the knowledge and access codes to decommission him.

Bucky sits in the shuttered sandwich shop a block away from Steve’s hospital room, and ponders his next move. 

He needs a way to take down HYDRA bases securely and discreetly, without sending the warning to others. He needs to eliminate all of the Chairs and limb tech. But to do so, he needs a reliable source of intel and weaponry, and not just move from one stolen phone to the next. He needs a better way to charge his limbs — they each need 4 hours of daily charge, and right now he can’t risk charging more than one at a time. When he’s limbless, a larger city rat can take him down. Bucky frowns at the sandwich counters around him, clocking all the possible places a rat can infiltrate. He needs a proper base of operations. He needs a long-term plan.

Bucky runs the variables through his mind, long years of practice automatically turning them into mission parameters, and from there, an outline of the tactics and materials required. It’ll be challenging to run a completely solo operation without the standard support from STRIKE and tech, but a solid base of operation and a longer mission prep time will help. Infiltrating into a HYDRA base without triggering alarms will be difficult, but not anything he hasn’t done before. 

Time for HYDRA to have their own weapon turned on them.


	2. Steve

“I think the Winter Soldier is stalking me.” Steve says to Natasha as nonchalantly as he could over Sunday brunch. “Either that, or he’s moved in down the street and just happens to show up at my coffeeshop.”

Natasha adds some whipped cream to her waffle and asks, “How do you know it’s the Winter Soldier?” 

“Well, you know I don’t forget a face, courtesy of Uncle Sam, and he’s got that forehead and …” Steve gestures, making what he hopes is a proper Winter Soldier glare. “You know. The eyes.”

Natasha cocks her head. “Just the forehead and eyes?”

“Yeah, he’s usually wearing a scarf and a hoodie to keep his face covered, but also, I’m trying *not* to stare when I see him buying ten boxes of pizza from DeNiro’s.”

Natasha sighs. “Steve, you are *horrible* at being covert.”

“Well, ever since the serum, there’s no way for me to stop standing out, so might as well lean into it, you know?” Peggy’d taught him that — how to play to expectations. “The more oblivious I look, the closer the Winter Soldier gets to me.”

Natasha gives Steve an assessing look. “Is that also why you wear those tiny tiny shirts?”

“Yup. When people are looking down here, they aren’t really paying attention to, well, anything else, really.” Steve pours some syrup on his own waffle. “Also, Sam likes them.” 

“Damn right I do,” Sam slides in to sit down with his own plate of waffles. “Hand over the whipped cream, Romanov.”

Natasha pouts but hands it over. “You know he’s a ghost story, right?”

Steve frowns. That’s the tone that Natasha uses when there’s classified intel that she’s looking for an excuse to share. “What do you know about him?”

“Just that he looks like he’s not older than 30 but every major assassination of the past 50 years have been attributed to him.” Natasha takes a bite of waffle that is roughly 60% whipped cream. “Except for Alexander Pierce.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “So you’re saying that he shot his boss and you guys covered it up?”

“Yup. You get a gold star.” Natasha pats Sam’s arm in approval, and somehow the can of whipped cream is back in her hands again. “One second, Pierce had managed to grab his phone and was threatening to put a 2 inch hole in my sternum, and the next second, he was dead on a ground, an unmarked Soviet bullet lodged in his brain.” Natasha shrugs. “We got rid of the evidence and blamed it on Nick.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Fury playing his mind games again. “So is the Soldier a rogue agent?” He thinks back to the way that the Soldier suddenly bolted after knocking out Sam’s car on the freeway. “Did something make him flip?”

Natasha shrugs, talking around a mouthful of waffle. “Been trying to track him down since Insight and not succeeding. All we know is that a bunch of HYDRA bases have been going dark. We usually find the higher-ups dead and the rookies in locked rooms by the time we get there.”

“Hmm. Sounds like he’s on our side, then.” Steve would like to meet the guy — anyone who shoots Pierce in the face and takes down a bunch of HYDRA bases is good in his book.

Natasha just makes a non-committal hum and adds some strawberries to her waffle. “Or he might be assigned to clean house. It’s good that you have eyes on him, but keep your distance.”

“Oh boy,” Sam sighs. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

* * *

Two days later, Steve spots the Winter Soldier again, but this time, what the Soldier was carrying wasn’t pizza. The way he walked, the heft of the bag over his shoulder — the Soldier was clearly on his way to carry out a mission.

Steve slows down on his morning run and ducks behind a nearby dumpster to consider his options. Nat would just tell him to stay back. Sam would worry about him doing this solo, but the Winter Soldier might spook if all the Avengers in DC show up. Steve pulls out his phone and checks the time. Sam’s expecting him home in about an hour, and will know something’s wrong if Steve doesn’t show. Steve doesn’t think the Winter Soldier’s going to attack him, and even if he did, they’re pretty evenly matched. If all else fails, Steve can run faster. Making sure his phone’s location is turned on, Steve shrugs and starts trailing the Soldier. Nothing can go *too* wrong in an hour.

He follows the Winter Soldier down several alleyways, and then suddenly the Soldier turns and growls, “Stop following me.” Steve notices belatedly that there’s no one around, and they’re standing in a blind alley that clearly wasn’t a HYDRA base. Guess he wasn’t good at being covert after all. Well, might as well lean into it. He opens his palms in a show of friendliness. “You’re the Winter Soldier, right? And I’m guessing you’re off the take down a HYDRA base. Let me help.”

“No.” The word is out of the Soldier’s mouth before Steve’s even finished.

Steve feels the mulish side of him rear up. “Why not? As far as taking down HYDRA goes, I’m the only other guy around with a proven record. 14 major bases and 30 minor ones.”

“Yeah, back in ’44 and ’45.” The Soldier snorts from behind his scarf. “You’re a bit out of date.” There’s something about the way he says it that makes Steve frown. He’s treating Steve as a familiar, not an unknown entity, and not like Captain America either… it’s almost as if the sentence should have ended with the word “pal.”

The Soldier takes advantage of Steve’s confusion to disappear into one of the doors in the alley. “Hey, wait!” Steve chases after him, and finds himself in a dark room. It’s a closed print shop. A glint of silver turns him in the right direction but instead of the soft hoodie and scarf, Steve finds the Winter Soldier as Steve’d first seen him: goggles, mask, dark leathers, black tac pants, armed to the teeth. The purple hoodie and the argyle scarf are nowhere to be seen.

“You need to leave.” The Soldier sounds much more menacing through the mask.

“Look, I just…” Steve holds up his hands again. “I want to help, all right? You hate HYDRA, I hate HYDRA…” The Soldier huffs a breath of resignation, and Steve lowers his hands. “Great.” 

That’s when the Soldier attacks.

Steve realizes three moves in that both of them are pulling their punches. He doesn’t want to hurt to Soldier until he understands the provocation, and the Soldier seem to only be going for grappling moves. Between the Soldier’s unwillingness to use any of his weapons and Steve’s lack of a shield, they’re evenly matched. Until, that is, something beeps on the Soldier’s right shoulder.

The Soldier’s eyes first widen in fear, and then harden in desperation as he stops pulling his punches. “You. Need. To. Go.” He grunts as he rolls under Steve’s right hook, flips up off the ground and punches Steve in the gut with his right hand, knocking him to the ground.

Steve barely has time to register that the right fist was also metal before they are both surrounded by at least a dozen HYDRA goons, all armed to the teeth.

“Well well well,” says an all-too-familiar voice. “When I saw the tracking signal pop up, I thought we were here to nab an errant Asset.” Rumlow walks over, gun in one hand and a small device in the other. “This is a nice surprise.”

From his vantage point on the ground, Steve catches the Soldier’s brief look of panic and indecision before his eyes shutter into the blankness from the bridge. Leaning down, he grabs Steve by the neck and pulls him up so that he’s on his tip-toes. The grip is hard enough that Steve is barely able to breathe, let alone talk.

“Mission complete.” The Soldier’s voice is toneless, a far cry from their conversation earlier.

Steve’s still focused on trying to breathe when Rumlow walks up and punches him in the gut. He doubles over, still suspended by the neck by the Winter Soldier’s implacable arm, and that’s the opening for the other HYDRA goons to put Steve’s arms and legs in magcuffs. Steve glares at the slow grin growing on Rumlow’s face, and wishes he had a chance to swing at him, choking be damned. 

Once Steve is locked down tight and has five guns pointed at him, Rumlow gestures for the Soldier to set Steve back down on the ground. He nods in approval as the Soldier keeps his hand around Steve’s neck as an extra insurance that Steve doesn’t try anything. Then, out of nowhere, Rumlow turns and slaps the Soldier hard across the face and snarls, “You idiot, that mission was 3 months ago.”

The Soldier lets himself be slapped, the hand still on Steve’s neck completely unmoving. He repeats in the same blank voice. “Mission complete.”

“God they must have fried your brain too much.” Rumlow tucks the small device back into his pocket. “Whatever. At least I don’t have to use this to take you back in. Let’s head back to base, give you a reset.” Here Rumlow leers at Steve. “You’re in for a fun surprise, Cap.”

“Fuck you, Rumlow.” Steve growls.

Rumlow chuckles. “Nah, I’m going to be doing the fucking around here.” and the rest of the team guffaws. With a gesture, the Winter Soldier is herding Steve into the waiting transport van.

* * *

Steve spends the entire ride staring at the Winter Soldier, piecing together what he knows. The guy wanted him to leave. Did not want to fight him until he refused to leave. But then something caused him to stop pulling his punches, and there was a sudden urgency to the fight. Was it because the Soldier was expecting Rumlow? Rumlow mentioned a tracker, but if the Soldier was taking down HYDRA bases, he would not be wearing a tracker. Unless he wanted to be tracked and taken in. It’s an idiotic and foolhardy way to get into a HYDRA base, but Steve’s done dumber things. 

And well, Steve did want to help take down HYDRA bases, so he supposes he’s now along for the ride, for better or for worse. They’ve of course confiscated his phone, but hopefully Sam and Natasha will be on their way within the hour.

Across from him, the Soldier’s arm suddenly makes a loud beep, and the Soldier twitches slightly. Rumlow scowls. “Low battery?” The Soldier nods. Someone next to Rumlow says, “I have a field charger, should I …”

“Nah, it’s probably still at 10 minute intervals.” Rumlow says dismissively.

The other man hesitates. “But doesn’t it zap the Soldier each time?”

“So what?” Rumlow snaps. “We need it functional just in case Cap tries something. We can charge back at base.”

Steve looks back at the Soldier, who thus far seems to be impassive to the entire conversation. Was this how the Soldier behaved back when he worked for HYDRA? Why? The Soldier was the only one who could hold Steve, so why did he let Rumlow slap him?

Steve frowns as he ponders the Soldier’s carefully blank face. What is he thinking? Is this part of his plan? Was his plan to nab Steve all along? That’s when he notices that the Soldier is blinking.

The Soldier is blinking at him in Morse code.

S-O-R-R-Y . Probably apologizing for the choking, and maybe for whatever the Soldier will have to do when the arrive at the base. Steve relaxes at the confirmation that this is an act for the Soldier, that he’s *letting* Rumlow slap him around.

There’s really no time for long messages, so Steve blinks back: O-K. His neck will have some bruising, but it’s not bad, all told. And if the Soldier will have to rough him up a bit at the base, he’ll probably pull his punches like before. He quickly blinks back, P-L-A-N, then raises his eyebrows.

The Soldier blinks, long short long long. Y for Yes.

Steve squares his shoulders, and asks his next question. H-E-L-P?

The Soldier blinks back emphatically, N-O. And then, W-A-I-T. 

Steve huffs, then blinks back, 3-0-M-I-N . It’s all he’s willing to wait. That’s probably how much time it’d take for Sam and Nat to mobilize and start tracking wherever they’re taking him.

The Soldier pauses, then blinks Y again.

“Wondering if your boyfriend’s making kissy faces at you under that mask, Cap?” Rumlow has evidently gotten bored on the ride. The Soldier immediately returns to the impassive look he had before, eyes losing their sharpness.

Steve says reflexively, “He’s not my boyfriend.” For some reason, this makes Rumlow even more pleased about something. 

“So I take it you’ve never taken off the mask?” Rumlow’s about to say more when the transport pulls to a stop. “C’mon in,” he says amicably, as if there isn’t a 10-man armed escort, “It’ll be more fun to show you.”

They go into a sparsely furnished room, the sort of space where you wait to be deployed or debriefed. There’s racks and lockers on one side for whatever armor or weaponry that needs a temporary holding space, there’s a few chairs that have seen better days, and a coffee table with some cards and magazines. Oddly, that only takes up half the room. The other half has a bare, grimy wall and a ratty carpet. The men push Steve down against said wall on the far end of the room, and the mag-cuffs automatically lock into corresponding slots on the floor. So they’re used to detaining captives here, too, Steve thinks grimly. Steve tests the restraints and finds them too strong to break. He will have to bide his time, then. He did promise to give the Soldier 30 minutes to do whatever he was planning.

Rumlow walks over to the other side of the room, slumps down into what is clearly the best chair, and addresses the Soldier. “We’re on base now. You know the rules.”

The Soldier walks silently over to the lockers and starts removing his weapons and taking off his armor. His arm beeps again, and another small tremor. There’s still five men pointing guns at Steve, but the other ten also start stripping off their tac vests and hanging up their larger weapons.

But the Soldier doesn’t stop at his armor. Steve watches as the Soldier methodically continues undressing amongst the others until he was completely naked, underwear and all. His curtain of hair hides his face as he turns back toward Rumlow, so Steve can’t see if the Soldier is signaling anything with his eyes. It’s just as well because Steve is completely distracted by the Soldier’s body. Or rather, his four robot limbs. He knew that the Winter Soldier’s left arm was robotic, and had once pondered what had led the Soldier to lose his arm. During the fight in the print shop, he’d figured out that at least part of the Soldier’s right arm was also metallic. However, knowing those things is completely different from seeing the long metal legs walking back toward Rumlow, both robot arms held still by his sides, his torso looking strangely vulnerable bracketed by all that machinery. Steve wonders if all of the advanced limb technology was courtesy of HYDRA — HYDRA helping a quad amputee would explain why the Winter Soldier remained loyal to HYDRA for so long.

As the Soldier kneels down in front of Rumlow, Steve gets a full view of the scars on the Soldier’s back. Thick webs of scar tissue radiate from where each limb is attached. At the shoulder blades and hip bones there are pinion points that seem to be driven bone-deep, and across the center of his back are faint criss-crossed stripes. Whip marks, Steve realizes with a jolt. Deep ones, to have left a mark given the Soldier’s healing factor, but also old, given the faintness. Steve frowns. Maybe they’re from before the Soldier joined HYDRA? Why would HYDRA whip their operative?

But then again, why would a skilled HYDRA operative such as the Winter Soldier be expected to kneel, naked, in front of the base commander? Steve looked at the other men at the lockers, none of whom are naked. Nor do they look surprised at the Soldier’s current position.

Just then, the Soldier’s arms beeps again, and this time, Steve can see the small electric zap it sends through the Soldier’s torso. The Soldier takes it with barely a flinch.

Rumlow huffs in mild irritation. “Worse than those fire alarm batteries.” He pulls out the small device in his pocket, and, with a small click, the Soldier’s arms fall off with a thunk. Rumlow kicks them aside with a grunt. “Someone charge them before they start beeping every fucking second.” Steve barely has time to register a man slotting the arms into what seems like a dedicated charging stand before he’s drawn back to a quick motion from Rumlow: he’s pulled the Soldier’s head to his crotch. 

In soft slurping noise that follows, there’s only one thing that can be happening. The Soldier is sucking Rumlow’s cock. The scene before Steve is so absurd: the Soldier, armless, is sucking Rumlow’s cock, and, judging by the way the way the other men have started pulling out their own cocks, this is just the beginning of a familiar ritual.

Steve feels a heavy knot in his throat as he rearranges all that he knows about the Soldier in his head. The slapping, the whip marks, the numb obedience, and now, the sexual abuse. The Soldier wasn’t a HYDRA operative, he was a HYDRA slave.

Rumlow finishes on the Soldier’s face, and then looks over at Steve with a smirk. “Well, what do you think of our little toy soldier, Cap? Want it to suck you off, too?”

“Fuck you, Rumlow. You’re sick, doing this to another person.” Steve scans the room, using his most disappointed Captain America voice. “The rest of you, too, for letting this happen.” 

“Well, it’s not a person anymore.” As if to emphasize the point, Rumlow clicks his device again and the legs unlatch. The Soldier loses his balance and tilts backward, landing with a soft thump. Rumlow nudges the Soldier with his boot, then says with an anticipatory glance at Steve. “But also, you might be interested in knowing the person it used to be.” With that, he kicks the Soldier’s torso over so that he’s facing Steve, and suddenly Steve can’t breathe.

Steve is back on the train, racing through the Alps with the cold wind is whipping around him, stealing the words out of his throat. “Bucky?” Steve hates how small his voice comes out. Because it *is* Bucky’s face looking back at him, Rumlow’s cum and dirt from the carpet streaked across his face, eyes blank and impassive. 

“Don’t worry, Cap, your boyfriend’s not in here anymore.” Rumlow taps his boot against Bucky’ head but his eyes are trained on Steve. “They fried its brain back in the early 50s, you know? And we redo the wipe before and after every mission. Doesn’t remember jack shit.” 

And Steve *knows* that Bucky’s there, that it was Bucky giving him all those signals, that Bucky’s carefully blank gaze is just him playing into their expectations of him. But he couldn’t help a shudder at the thought of Bucky as an empty husk at the hands of HYDRA. God, the whip marks, the amputations, the mind wipes. 

Rumlow laughs, pleased. “Well, looks like we broke Cap.” With a casual kick of his foot he rolls Bucky toward the other men. “Let’s let him watch for a while before we put both of them in the Chair, huh?”


	3. Bucky

Fuck. Bucky thought he was prepared for this, for the look on Steve’s face, had in fact figured this was going to happen the moment he’d sensed Steve awkwardly tailing him. But nothing prepared him for the look on Steve’s face — the horrified shock, and then, the shudder. What a pitiful sight he must have been, as a helpless lump on the ground, getting kicked around by Rumlow. It had taken all of his willpower to remain blank, to not let anything show, even as he longed to cry, to scream, to beg for forgiveness.

He’s gotten so used to it — so used to coming to himself with a cock in both ends, so used to being covered in the tackiness of various body fluids, so used to being used and put away — he’d forgotten how it must look to Steve. Disgusting, probably. Pitiful, if Steve were feeling kind. No wonder Steve shuddered.

Bucky takes a deep breath around the third cock that’s being shoved into his mouth. He needs to get through this, rescue Steve, and then… and then… Bucky’s brain hits a wall when he tries to think of what Steve would say or do after this. Would Steve even bear to look at him? Should he run again, to spare Steve from having to see the face of his friend attached to this ruined body?

Better to focus on the present, and the plan. The present is that he’s got cock number four in his mouth and another in his ass, and he’s being tugged between the two in a rapid pace. Bucky hopes that at least he’s being partially obscured by the men fucking him, so that Steve won’t have to see.

But of course Rumlow wouldn’t let him get away with that. From somewhere near Bucky’s head, he says conversationally, “You know, Cap. We used to have these great peg legs that we’d put on it. Makes this part easier because we wouldn’t have to hold it up.” Bucky remembers those. Some enterprising tech had gotten scolded for keeping the limbs on too long and wasting electricity, so he’d whipped up something on a 3D printer to strap onto Bucky’s stumps. Rumlow continues in a mock musing tone, “Maybe we can dig those out from somewhere. Or heck, just duct tape some traffic cones onto those stumps.” Here the man fucking his mouth decides to grab his head for better leverage, and the next part is muffled. “…daya say, Cap … watch … boyfriend … scrabble around … dog?”

Steve growls something in response, but he’s too far away for Bucky to hear past the hands on his ears and the cock he’s choking around. Well, at least it sounds like Steve has gotten over his initial shock. 

The guy fucking his ass pipes up helpfully, “Didn’t the Secretary have those exclusive-use mechanical dog legs for it? Think we can make something like that now that he’s not micromanaging the lab budget?” The men around them laugh, and soon enough, Bucky has some new cocks in him.

After the last of the men have had their turn, Rumlow stoops down to where he’d been dropped, and makes an exaggerated noise at the cum leaking out of his ass. “Hey Cap, wanna learn a trick? When the Asset gets a little loose and you don’t particularly want sloppy 9ths…” Bucky closes his eyes slightly against the feeling of the stun baton pushing into him, and takes as long, slow breath. Steve’s retort is drowned out by the other men’s hooting as Rumlow turns it on. 

Bucky’s been shocked enough times that his body’s developed an automatic defensive reaction to it — it slows down, dialing up the tingling sensation and dialing down the searing waves of pain. Become an empty vessel for the electricity, and it doesn’t hurt as much. Unfortunately, this means Bucky’s a bit muzzy as Rumlow fucks him some more with the baton to get the excess cum out, and then drags him forward by the hair, ass still dripping.

With a start, Bucky realizes that Rumlow is bringing him toward Steve. Fuck. Is he going to make Bucky suck Steve’s cock? Steve is locked down on his knees with his hands behind him, and Rumlow is just the type to enjoy shoving Bucky’s face into Steve’s crotch.

“Hey Cap, want in on this?” Rumlow drops Bucky in front of Steve, still holding him by the hair. “Take a good look, and if you’re nice, I’ll let it get you off.” This close, Steve can see all of him, from the hand bruises on his shoulders and hips to the cum dribbling down his face to his limp cock. Oh god, he wants to curl away, wants to close his eyes, wants to tell Steve not to look, but Rumlow has three fingers in his mouth and a firm grip of his hair, and without his limbs he can’t do anything. At least there’s enough fluids on his face to hide the tears that he can’t blink away. With a silent, internal sigh, Bucky braces himself and finally lets himself look at Steve.

Steve’s eyes are scanning over Bucky’s exposed and bruised torso, eyebrows creased in a small frown as he tracked every single purpling mark. There’s something in his gaze that Bucky doesn’t immediately recognize. Whenever the lab techs document his bruises he’s felt like he was being examined and dissected. Whenever the STRIKE team look at his body they just see a thing to be used. They’ve had competitions before, to see who could leave more interesting scars. But Steve… Bucky realizes with a start that it’s a look of *concern*. Steve’s worried about him hurting — not in a clinical assessment of damage, but because he cares. Steve *cares*. Something in Bucky breaks open, and the rush of relief is so sudden and so overwhelming that he doesn’t manage to hold back a broken sob.

Rumlow tugs Bucky’s head back and grins at him. “What’s up, Soldier? Finally recognize your boyfriend?” He picks Bucky off the floor and spears him on his cock in one go, then starts slamming into Bucky at a brutal pace. “Change of plans. First we’ll fuck any sad little gay memories out of you, and *then* we'll do the same to Cap.” Rumlow picks up the pace of his fucking, bouncing Bucky up and down his cock like a glorified fleshlight. “You know, if you’re good, I might even get you some peg legs and let you fuck your boyfriend. Not that either of you will remember after the Chair.” Rumlow tightens his grip on Bucky’s hips and grinds his cock deeper into him. 

Bucky takes this moment to look at Steve, who has been surprisingly silent to Rumlow’s taunts. That’s when he sees the hard look in Steve’s eyes and the way his muscles are tensed against the cuffs. Fuck, the idiot’s going to try to break out of those mag-cuffs by breaking his own wrists and ankles. Bucky blinks a panicked N-O-N-O-N-O-N-O on repeat, long short long long long, until Steve subsides into a mutinous glare. Bucky doesn’t know how long he can keep Steve from doing something stupid, especially when he still needs to keep up his own charade, but thankfully, a siren sounds from deep within the base, a loud whine that seems to spiral infinitely upwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey I inked a whole different view of the pic before I decided that was boring and I'd rather be drawing boot prints on Bucky, but here ya go:


	4. Steve

“What the fuck?” Rumlow jerks upward from where he was coming into Bucky’s ass, and Steve can’t help smiling grimly. Rumlow shoots him a dark look. “Is that Romanov?”

Steve shrugs. “Best take a look at that.” It’s only a little after half an hour -- Natasha and Sam must have worked fast. And thankfully, Bucky’d talked him down from taking extreme measures to get out of his manacles. Steve flexes his muscles. Can’t wait to punch Rumlow in the face.

Rumlow pulls Bucky off and tosses him aside like a condom wrapper, and Bucky rolls several times on the ground until he comes to a stop. Steve adds that to his mental list of reasons to kill Rumlow, and works to commit all of these men’s faces to memory. Natasha and Sam will come break them out, and then he will chase down every single one of them to the ends of the world.

Behind Bucky, the men are busily tucking themselves back in and grabbing their weapons from the lockers. Rumlow barks, “You two, stay with Cap if he tries anything,” and with that, the room is suddenly cleared out. It is strangely quiet, except for the siren sound still spiraling through the base and the heavy breathing of the two men with their guns pointed at Steve.

On the floor, Bucky silently lifts his head and flicks his eyes at the two men. Steve jerks a tiny nod, and turns his attention to Mustache and Pimples in front of him.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves.” Steve looks both men in the eyes. Behind them, Bucky is rolling back towards Rumlow's chair. “Tell me, does being a rapist and a murderer keep you up at night? Do your parents know you spent today gang-raping an amputee?” Mustache is unmoved, but Pimples looks uncomfortable.

“How much do you get paid to give up your morals? Did you sign up to bring order to the world? At what point did you realize that you’re actually sowing the chaos? Before or after you raped a man and told yourself it was okay?”

“Shut up, Cap.” Pimples’ discomfort makes him angry, which makes him stupid. He moves forward to pistol-whip Steve, probably to shut him up. Which makes it the perfect moment for Steve to throw himself forward and headbutt the gun out of Pimples’ hands. “What the fuck?!” Pimples then charges at Steve, but Steve ducks at just the right time for Pimples to trip on top of him. Then Steve jerks back upward and body-slams the man against the wall.

There’s a sharp crack beside him, and Steve turns just in time to see Bucky do a flying leap onto Mustache’s head, grip him with his thighs, then flip him to the ground in a loud thump. 

Steve can’t help smiling — he loves seeing Bucky work.

Bucky walks over to the station where his arms are charging, pulls up his right arm with his teeth, and reattaches it with a practiced body contortion. Then he walks back over, finds the key from Mustache, moves Pimples aside, and unlocks Steve’s manacles.

Steve rubs his wrists and picks up the guns from Pimples and Mustache, and turns to find Bucky at his locker, wiping himself down with a small towel that he pulled from his bag. 

Steve blinks. Bucky had packed a towel. “Natasha said that you’ve been taking down HYDRA bases these few months.”

Bucky grunts, pulling on his clothes. “Four so far.”

“So, four times that you’ve played the obedient Winter Soldier and …” Steve swallows, uncertain how to continue. _Let yourself get raped? Returned to the routine abuse that you’d suffered?_

Bucky pauses, boot half on. “Sorry you had to see that.” 

Steve blinks. “You’re the one who they were raping.”

Bucky turns back to his boot and the curtain of hair falls back over his face. “I’m used to it, doesn’t bother me.”

Steve goes to check Pimples and Mustache for any other useful items, and lets himself to truly imagine Bucky's life under HYDRA — missions, wipes, and rapes so routine that it stops being remarkable or appalling. He thinks about Bucky integrating his own rape into his infiltration planning.

He doesn’t know what to say about that sort of courage, especially not when his mind is still processing the enormity of Bucky surviving all of this and being *here*. So instead, he nods at the left arm still on the charging stand. “Wouldn’t it be easier to tie your shoelaces with two arms?”

Bucky grunts, talking around a mouth full of shoelace. “Can’t. Need it to push the last code.”

Steve walks over and kneels down at Bucky’s feet, and with a bit of nudging, Bucky lets him takes over the shoelaces. “What code?”

“It’s set up to send alert codes to the system when it’s in low battery mode. I’ve modified it to send different codes.” Bucky hands Steve his thigh holsters. The magnetic straps snap easily to Bucky’s metal leg. “At the 5 minute mark, it sends a ‘base under attack’ code, which triggers the sirens and an external communications lockdown.”

Steve straps on Bucky’s kneepads as he pulls on a shirt. “That’s you? I thought that was Natasha and Sam.”

“Makes sense, since I was getting fucked by Rumlow at the time.” Bucky shrugs and nods at the arm. “At the 1 minute mark, it sends ‘base compromised’, which triggers all the computer systems to shut down and self destruct. At the zero mark, it sends the base lockdown code.”

As if on cue, the lights shut off and the keypad on the door locks and turns red.

Steve considers the door while Bucky fetches and attaches his left arm. “So now every door is locked on the base, none of the computers are working, and everyone is trapped in whatever room they’re in?”

Bucky nods, and starts buckling on the rest of his armor. It’s definitely faster with two arms. “Only I have the override code to open doors.” He hesitates, chewing his lips. “Sometimes HYDRA sent the Winter Soldier to clean house.”

Steve grins. “Bucky, that’s brilliant, turning their own systems against them. They’re sitting ducks.”

Bucky grunts noncommittally as he picks up the last of his grenades from his locker. “It’s nothing fancy. Just changed some numbers around and made the arm accept the connection but not charge.” Bucky finds another gun in the locker and tosses it to Steve. “Stark’s kid would have been able to save the computer data.” Something buzzes in the lockers, and Bucky picks it up, frowning. “Huh. Speaking of which,” Bucky tosses Steve his phone. “Looks like he got around the external signal lockdown somehow.”

It’s a text from Sam saying that he’s out to buy more whipped cream and that breakfast’s on the table. “They’ll be here in 5-10 minutes.”

Bucky nods. “You have a good team.”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s probably seen them in action. Now that Steve thinks about it, it’s probably no accident that Bucky was in his neighborhood. Steve imagines Bucky, sitting in a house just down the street from him, trying to learn enough code to rig his own arm. Repeatedly contorting his body until he could put on his own limbs in 2 seconds flat. Practicing the timing of everything so that his mission could run like clockwork. Packing a small towel so that he could clean himself after the rapes. Doing everything by himself. Did he calculate how many cocks he’d have to take before the codes kicked in?

“They can be your team, too, if you want.” Steve offers gently. “They’re good people. You can come stay with me and Sam, and Tony can…”

“Better if I work alone.” Bucky shrugs awkwardly and looks away, shoulders already bracing for the real question on the tip of Steve’s tongue. Seeing him hunched and vulnerable like this, and knowing that under all the armor and the guns is a body that has endured far too much, Steve almost doesn’t ask.

But he has to. Walking directly at the problem is always better than sneaking around it. “Bucky,” he says softly. “Why didn’t you come find me?” 

Bucky jerks as if he was slapped. Steve can’t see his face, but he can hear Bucky’s heavy, wet breaths. Slowly, carefully, Steve lays a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It’s trembling slightly, unlike the still metal arms. Steve waits.

“I’m an unsecured asset, Steve.” Bucky finally says after a long moment. “There are trigger phrases in my head that turn me back into their mindless weapon. And you’ve seen Rumlow’s remote — anyone with a level A clearance has one. You have a good team — Wilson, Romanov, Stark. I would just be a liability.”

“Anyone who takes down 4 HYDRA bases solo is not a liability.” Steve frowns. “Besides, you moved into my neighborhood. You let me see you. You clearly wanted to talk to me. So why didn’t you?” 

Bucky looks up at Steve, finally. His eyes are red-rimmed. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” He gestures at himself, and it’s like Steve can see Bucky’s torso under his clothes — the scars emanating from each limb, the bruises from the rape, the way it’s small enough to fit into a backpack. 

“I had a plan, you know?” Bucky says softly. “Clear out the bases, at least enough of them. Then I’d come say hi. Help with some of your missions. Get to know Wilson and Romanov.” Bucky’s voice sounds wistful. “And when you could see that I’m fine, doing good, maybe then I’d show you what they did to me.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Bucky.” Steve takes a step forward and turns Bucky to face him. “You don’t need to prove yourself to me.” Pouring all of his conviction and love into his words, Steve reaches out and pulls Bucky into a fierce embrace. “You don’t have to do it alone, Bucky. Not when I’m around.”

“I forgot.” Bucky sighs into Steve’s shoulder, and locks his metal arms around Steve.

Steve wants to spend the rest of the day like this, relishing the feeling of Bucky, solid against him. But that’s better done not in a HYDRA base. “All right,” he claps Bucky on the shoulder and straightens. “HYDRA aren’t going to shoot themselves, and I’ve got 15 that I particularly want to punch in the face. Let me actually be helpful for once, instead of fucking up your perfect plan with my mere presence.”

“All right,” Bucky chuckles, voice still a little wet. “Although your presence did help — since they thought I’d captured you, there were fewer loyalty and obedience tests this time.”

“Right.” Steve swallows at the implications of that. Bucky has dealt with what happened to him, it’s only fair for Steve to do the same on his own time. Something must show on his face, though, because Bucky’s eyes briefly widen before he quirks a small melancholy smile. 

“Hey punk, I’m doing okay.” He gently knocks his hard metal shoulder against Steve’s. “And better with you around.”

“Right.” This time Steve even manages a small, genuine smile. He flips off the safety of the gun in his hand and stands beside the door, letting Bucky take lead. “Let’s see how many rooms we can clear before the cavalry shows up.”

Bucky flashes him a vicious, happy grin as he punches in the code to unlock the door.

**Author's Note:**

> \- many thanks to Nonymos who listened to my flailing questions like "is it more painful to have the Bucky reveal before or after Rumlow fucks Bucky?" :P
> 
> \- okay guyz I finished writing the fic yesterday and really wanted to post today, but then today I fucked up my right hand, but I REALLY wanted to post because I have no chill, so that's why the art is drawn more clumsily than usual because I didn't want to use my wrist
> 
> \- it's not in the fic but Sam and Steve are dating and living together. Natasha drops by for Sunday brunch and pretty much whenever she feels like it. I've left Bucky and Steve's previous relationship vague, but the endgame would be Sam/Steve/Bucky. Bucky might have to live with Sam and Steve a while before Sam manages to convince Bucky that yes, the open invite to their bed is genuine.
> 
> \- oh man I'd planned on talking about Bucky's arm mods and his many contingency plans but typing hurts rn so I guess I'll put it here later???


End file.
